


If Tonight Is The Last Night

by mangocianamarch



Series: Le Livre de L'un par La Dame Marciana [15]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut, almost to the point of OOC oops i'm sorry i just really like sassy!bilbo, also bilbo is a sassface wow, also there is now a long fic being planned to expand this story so watch this space, bilbo is his informant, but i mean thorin is a smart-ass anD NO BILBO WILL NOT STAND FOR SMART MOUTHS, but they're in love so yeah, thorin is a hitman/assassin/bounty hunter type
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangocianamarch/pseuds/mangocianamarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is it. This is <i>THE</i> target. This is the one, Bil, I know it is. The last one we'll ever need. And then we're free."</p><p>Alternatively titled "Red Wine, Cheap Perfume and A Filthy Pout."</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Tonight Is The Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a modern AU that myself and my awesome friend [Rachel](archiveofourown.org/users/barracutie) came up with.
> 
> Yes, there's a long fic that's already in the works that will expand the story, picking up from where this will leave off. Rachel and I are super excited about it. We're hoping you guys will like this fic enough to be excited for the next part of their story as well.
> 
> And really, if there's anyone to thank for this, it's Rachel. She showed me a concept she had for her modern!Thorin, and I took it and ran away with it, and this is basically what it turned into.

“You've been holding out on me again, Bil.”

Bilbo nearly jumps out of his skin despite Thorin's silky smooth baritone; It's just not fair how someone so tall and so obviously bulky can keep himself unnoticed until he wants to be seen. How the hell had Bilbo not noticed him as he had walked into the room? Thorin is looking absolutely ridiculous where he's sat, wearing only his jeans and his favorite fur-collared leather coat, shirtless otherwise.

...All right, maybe not _very_ ridiculous.

Still. He _did_ nearly give Bilbo a heart attack just now. _Ridiculous_.

“No, I'm not,” Bilbo replies as his heart rate returns to normal. He removes his watch as he toes his leather shoes off, bending to pick them up and bring them to the shoe rack outside their bedroom.

“Yes, you are,” Thorin argues as Bilbo returns, peeling his jacket off, “You think I didn't know there was another drop today?”

Bilbo shrugs, pulling his socks off foot by foot. “Maybe it was just the mail,” he says flatly, disappearing momentarily to chuck his socks into the hamper in the bathroom.

“Or maybe it was a target,” Thorin prods, “Maybe it could even be _the_ target.”

Bilbo glares down at Thorin where he is seated at the edge of their bed. Thorin cocks an eyebrow at him and smirks. Bilbo rolls his eyes at him.

“Don't give me that face,” he sighs, exasperated, hands balled into fists on his hips.

This only serves to make Thorin even more smug. “So you're really not going to tell me?” he asks, although it is clear to Bilbo that Thorin already knows anyway.

“Because you snoop around in my mail!” Bilbo points out, voice rising slightly in annoyance.

Thorin's eyebrows rise as a look of realization crosses his face. “So it _is_ a target,” he concludes.

“Oh God, I _really_ hate you,” Bilbo huffs, turning away and angrily undoing the buttons on the wrists of his sleeves.

“Not what you were saying last night,” Thorin reminds him, and doesn't that just make Bilbo want to punch him in his arrogant little face even more.

“Shut up,” Bilbo says instead, teeth gritted.

“If I remember correctly,” Thorin continues, tone dropping slightly, and Bilbo knows _exactly_ what Thorin is doing, “Last night was all about the _Oh Gods_ and _Fuck yes Thorin right theres_ and _I'm gonna come if you don't fucking stops_.”

“Jesus!” Bilbo exclaims, “Do you never shut up?!”

Thorin gives a noncommittal jerk of his head. “You know _exactly_ how to shut me up,” he suggests, adding a completely unnecessary quirk of his eyebrow to match the grin in the corner of his mouth.

Bilbo narrows his eyes at Thorin, whose expression remains the same. He lets out a breath of irritation. “I'm leaving,” he threatens.

“You say that _everytime_ ,” Thorin snorts.

“Yes, well,” Bilbo coughs, “The only reason I never get to follow through is because you steal my damn keys.”

“...Guess what, babe.”

“...Fuck you.”

Bilbo pivots on his heel, truly intending to storm out this time (although he plans only on hiding out in a nearby pub until he's sure that Thorin has fallen asleep), but Thorin grabs him by the wrist and pulls him bodily onto his lap so that Bilbo is straddling him.

“You do know I was just teasing you,” Thorin promises, smiling sweetly up at him, and Bilbo does know that, but it doesn't stop Thorin from being completely infuriating.

“No,” Bilbo scoffs, “Get off me.” But he makes no attempt to get away from Thorin's grip.

“ _You're_ the one sitting on my lap,” Thorin points out, “Not the other way around.”

“Well obviously,” Bilbo snorts, rolling his eyes, “Because you'd break my fucking bones if it _was_.”

Thorin lets out a single chuckle, the sound reverberating through his body and to Bilbo's. “You kissed your dear sweet mother with that mouth?” he jokes.

“I kiss _you_ with this mouth,” Bilbo shoots back, “I don't hear _you_ complain.”

“Ah,” Thorin laughs, “Too right.”

“Yes, I usually am,” Bilbo says, “Now, let me off and let's forget this business of hits and targets and get some sleep for the night. I've had a long day, and I really don't want to be thinking about it anymore.”

But Thorin doesn't let him up still. His expression sobers, and he sighs heavily. “Bil, we _do_ need to talk about it,” he urges.

“No, we really don't!” Bilbo protests, “Please, I really don't...God, you know how I get when these things come...”

“I do know,” Thorin agrees, “But this job...This is the one we've been waiting for. This is it. This is _the_ target. This is the one, Bil, I know it is. The last one we'll ever need. And then we're free."

Bilbo sighs so heavily his entire body sags in Thorin's grip. “You said that about the last one,” he reminds Thorin sadly, “And look where that got us. Look what nearly happened to you.”

His fingers have unconsciously drifted to the healing scar just over Thorin's collarbone, and Thorin reaches up and directs his hand somewhere else. “We said we wouldn't talk about that anymore,” Thorin tells him.

“Well, how do you expect me not to, Thorin?” Bilbo asks as Thorin brings his arm back around his neck instead, “It's easier for you, because you're the one _out_ there, and I'm the one _in here_. I have to be the one wondering if I'll ever see you again once you're out the door. I'm the one worrying about you coming home. I'm the one fearing that you might not. And I'm sick of it, Thorin, to be quite honest. I can't keep living like that, I just can't.”

“Ssshh, I know,” sighs Thorin, pulling Bilbo into him to embrace him, “I don't want it anymore either, I get more and more scared everytime, but...” He urges Bilbo to pull away so he can look him in the eye. “This really, _really_ is the last one. You saw the figures. This is the one that's going to set us up for life. When it's done, I'll come home, and we'll leave. We can go anywhere we want to, do anything we want to, be anyone we want to be, and it'll be all over. I promise. Just one last job.”

“...Thorin...” Bilbo trails off, shaking his head, but Thorin holds his chin and turns his face towards him.

“Bilbo, I promise,” Thorin says firmly, the fingers of his other hand twining with Bilbo's on their own, “The last one. I'll come home, and then everything will be okay. I promise.”

Bilbo doesn't need to search Thorin's eyes. He knows he's being sincere. This is not something he'd lie about.

“You can't be sure,” Bilbo points out, “You still never know.”

“Just trust me,” Thorin assures him.

“It's not you I don't trust,” Bilbo answers.

Thorin sighs, running his hand reassuringly up and down Bilbo's spine lightly, and it's making Bilbo bow and arch into him. “We need this one,” Thorin tries to convince Bilbo, “Without this one, we'll be stuck here. I'll do my best to be safe, I'll do my best to come home to you, because I want to. I always want to come home to you. You can trust _that_ , can't you?”

Damn him. He always knows exactly what to say, doesn't he?

With a muttered curse, Bilbo finally gives in. He kisses Thorin, arms around his neck as Thorin pulls him closer and sighs into his mouth. As the kiss deepens, Thorin’s hands wander Bilbo’s body, pulling his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants. When his fingers make contact with Bilbo’s skin, Bilbo mewls a little, arching into Thorin just as Thorin’s tongue licks at Bilbo’s lower lip.

“Missed you,” Thorin whispers hoarsely into his ear, manoeuvring one hand until he’s palming Bilbo’s half-hard cock through his slacks. Bilbo’s grip in Thorin’s hair tightens a little, and he bites his lip as he tries to stifle a moan. “Been thinking about you all day.”

“Only coz you need a good fuck,” Bilbo teases, and that earns him a sharp nip to the earlobe. He hisses, jerking in Thorin’s arms, and Thorin chuckles.

“That’s what you get,” Thorin laughs, and the sound of it in Bilbo’s ear is like sweet, sweet wine, “I was actually thinking about how much I miss the sounds you make when I suck your cock.”

There’s no hiding the groan that that pulls out of Bilbo, and his hips buck a little against Thorin. “Want that,” he admits, “God, do I want that.”

“You don’t sound like it,” Thorin teases, and Bilbo pounds his shoulder with a fist, and Thorin laughs. He kisses Bilbo soundly but briefly. “Lay back.”

He lets Bilbo go, and reluctantly Bilbo does the same. He gets up off of Thorin’s lap, but before he can even move to do anything else, Thorin grabs him by the waist with both hands and unceremoniously dumps him onto his back on the bed, Bilbo and the mattress bouncing a bit at the impact.

“Brute,” Bilbo laughs before Thorin comes down on him, covering his smaller frame with his body, and kisses him again, deeper this time, hungrier. Bilbo can feel the heat radiating off of Thorin’s bare chest onto him, even through his shirt, and then Bilbo becomes acutely aware that he is grinding up against Thorin, eager for friction.

“Greedy,” Thorin laughs.

“Shut up and put your mouth on me, dammit,” Bilbo replies, and Thorin smirks out of the corner of his mouth.

“Yes sir,” he answers, slowly sliding lower until he can sit back on his haunches, his hands working at Bilbo’s belt. Bilbo tries to distract himself from the torture of Thorin’s fingers so close to his erection by undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, but then Thorin is urging his hips up so he can pull the slacks and boxers off, and then one large hand wraps itself around the base of Bilbo’s prick and strokes _up_ tightly. Bilbo’s eyes roll upward, nearly to the back of his head, and he lets out a whine.

“Ssshhh,” he hears Thorin coo before his lips touch the skin of his thigh lightly, “I’ve got you, you’re okay.”

“I won’t be if you don’t fucking do something,” Bilbo protests with a breathless laugh.

“Sssshhh,” is the only response Thorin gives him, and then Thorin’s lips are sliding up his thigh as his other hand draws Bilbo’s legs apart. Bilbo bites his lip as he watches Thorin kiss at the crook between his leg and pelvis, moving across his belly, and then with one last hungry look up at Bilbo, Thorin parts his lips, and the head of Bilbo’s cock disappears between them.

Bilbo whimpers as Thorin starts to suckle on the tip of his dick and tonguing at the slit. It’s already enough to get Bilbo squirming, needing more. Thorin begins to bob his head, taking Bilbo in inch by scant inch with every movement, his hand twisting and pumping up to meet his lips. Thorin’s tongue flattens and follows along the vein underneath the shaft, and Bilbo cannot help but moan at the hot, wet contact.

“God, Thorin, that’s good,” he sighs, clutching at the sheets underneath him in a rather vain attempt to keep from bucking up into Thorin’s mouth. In response, Thorin moves a little faster, taking in almost all of Bilbo’s cock as he goes. With some effort, Bilbo pushes himself up onto his elbows so he can watch, but the sight of Thorin’s mouth wrapped around his erection is almost too much, and his arms quiver as he struggles to stay on them.

“Like that, do you?” Thorin offers hoarsely, not letting Bilbo reply as he gives him a long, languid lick from sac to tip.

“Christ!” Bilbo yelps, head thrown back. He hears Thorin chuckle before he feels his mouth on his balls, Thorin’s hand stroking him slowly as he sucks there. Thorin’s beard scratches and rasps at Bilbo’s skin, and he’s quite sure he’ll have friction burn marks there come morning, but Bilbo finds it hard to care when the tip of Thorin’s tongue is running up the vein to stop and tease momentarily at the tip before he swallows Bilbo down in one smooth motion. Thorin moves his head again, withdrawing almost to the slit and pushing almost all the way down again in an easy rhythm. He establishes a pace, and then draws Bilbo’s own hand to the base of his hard-on. Bilbo gives without protest, and Thorin’s hands slide along his thighs until he’s grasping Bilbo’s hips and holding him still, feasting on him hungrily.

Bilbo can only shudder and groan with need, Thorin’s mouth too talented and his tongue too wicked for his brain to keep functioning normally. His other arm finally gives up, and he falls back onto the mattress, his back arching into Thorin’s touch. Bilbo’s sharp intake of breath is cut off when Thorin’s lips move all the way down slowly, taking all of Bilbo in and keeping him there.

“Oh _fuck_!” Bilbo shouts, growling as he struggles for control. “Thorin, oh my _God_.”

Thorin hollows his cheeks as he moves back up and off of Bilbo’s prick, and Bilbo lets out a breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. But then Thorin does it _again_ , and Bilbo is a lot less prepared for it this time. With his erection all but down Thorin’s throat, Bilbo writhes in Thorin’s grip, cursing loudly and pounding a fist onto the bed in desperation.

“Fuck, Thorin,” he whimpers when Thorin releases him with a noisy pop, “Could’ve fucking come right there.”

“Not yet,” Thorin answers breathlessly, “We’ve only just started.”

And with that, he flips Bilbo onto his stomach and raises his hips. Bilbo barely has time to scramble for a pillow before Thorin is licking between his cheeks, spreading them apart with his fingers to expose Bilbo’s hole to the cold night air.

“Thorin, God, _don’t_ ,” Bilbo squeaks, blushing, but he doesn’t really mean it, and Thorin knows he doesn’t really mean it. Thorin nips at one firm cheek before he tongues at Bilbo’s entrance, and Bilbo can’t help but twitch and buck and jerk at the sensitive contact. Thorin’s lips surround his pucker and suck, making the most obscene sounds possible, and Bilbo _yells_ into the pillow beneath him. He reaches a hand down his own body until he can grasp his cock and stroke, although it’s a struggle to keep from going fast and bringing himself off while Thorin eats away at his rim.

“Need to get in here, Bil,” Thorin groans, teasing at Bilbo’s hole with his thumb, pushing at it just enough to put pressure, but not to enter, “Fucking missed you.”

“Thorin, _please_ ,” Bilbo begs, and Thorin answers by diving for it again, tonguing at it almost mercilessly, until Bilbo’s hand is practically _vibrating_ around the head of his cock with his need for more.

“Lube,” Thorin rasps, and Bilbo is able to find enough wits to stretch for the bedside drawer and rifle through it. He finds the tube that was opened just recently, and reaches it back to Thorin. “Not that one. The _other_ one.”

“Shit,” Bilbo hisses, “Not that one, Thorin, please.”

“Yes, that one,” Thorin argues, adding an encouraging kiss to the small of Bilbo’s back, “You _like_ that one.”

“It’s too much for me, babe,” Bilbo protests.

“Come on, sweet-lips,” Thorin coos, kissing at Bilbo’s arse again, “For me.”

Bilbo swallows, breathing hard. He wants it, but at the same time he doesn’t, because he may not last much longer if they use _that_ one, but _fuck_ , does he want to use it. He chucks the tube in his hand back into the drawer and gropes around, until his hand closes around the other tube.

“You better make it fucking last, Thorin,” Bilbo says, but it’s not so much a command as it is an urgent request. If Thorin is leaving in the morning, then Bilbo’s going to take as much advantage of tonight as he can.

There is no contact on Bilbo for a while, and he finds himself almost missing it, until he hears the _squelch_ of the tube and the viscous liquid being squeezed out of it.  He bucks when he feels Thorin blow gently across his sensitive entrance.

“Easy now,” Thorin hums quietly behind him, “Easy...”

The tip of one slicked finger pushes past Bilbo’s tightness, and Bilbo bites at his lip. Little by little, Thorin’s finger pushes in, and Bilbo lets out shaky breaths.

“Fuck, lube’s already heating up,” Bilbo tells Thorin, “God, I can feel it...All the way in, babe, come on.”

He hears Thorin groan low in his throat, and then his thick finger is knuckle-deep inside Bilbo. The lube starts to work even more, and it’s hot and tingling inside Bilbo where it’s coating Thorin’s finger.

“God yes,” Thorin moans breathily behind him, and he inches his finger out to the first joint, only to slide it back in a little quicker this time. At Bilbo’s incoherent urging, he starts to move his hand in a slow but harsh pace, letting the friction and the heat build to the point of it almost stinging.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Bilbo whimpers, “Thorin...fuck, more, come on...”

Thorin wastes little time in obeying, and when his hand pushes back in, a second finger joins the first. Bilbo’s moan is full and high as he begins to feel the stretch. He can only barely hear Thorin groaning and growling behind him as he works Bilbo open, twisting and scissoring his fingers inside him, widening the distance between his fingers slowly. Seemingly unable to help himself, he bends and licks at Bilbo’s hole, slipping his tongue in when he can. Bilbo all but screams, hips thrusting back against Thorin’s hand.

“One more, babe,” Thorin urges, “Fuck, you look so good, just one more.”

“Can’t,” Bilbo mewls, shaking his head and panting, his lips dry, “It’s too much, Thorin, fuck.”

“No, it’s not,” Thorin assures him, “You can take it, Bilbo, just one more.”

Chest heaving as he struggles for breath, Bilbo nods as much as he can, and Thorin rewards him with a swift kiss to the back of his neck. “There’s my sweet Bilbo,” he coos, “You can take it for me, babe, just one.”

Bilbo hears Thorin adding a bit more lube, and then three fingers press and slip into him, the way slickened, and the added lube heats up even quicker. Bilbo gasps out Thorin’s name and bites into the pillow he’s holding to him as Thorin pushes his hand as far in as it will go.

“God, that’s it, Bil,” Thorin praises, “You’re doing so good, baby, so fucking good.”

“Shit,” Bilbo hisses, breathless, “Fucking move, Thorin, please.”

Thorin’s other hand reaches around Bilbo to take over and stroke his cock, while his fingers replicate the movement inside Bilbo. The onslaught from both front and back is blindingly good, and Bilbo quivers. He tries to thrust into Thorin’s hand and back into the other at the same time, and Thorin’s hands chase his movements and make him cry out as Thorin’s fingers separate little by little inside him, stretching him even more.

Bilbo lets out an undignified squeak. “Thorin, fuck!” he yelps, “Make it good, please please please, fucking make it good.”

Thorin twists the hand inside Bilbo just a little, curling his fingers a little, and they hit exactly what he’s looking for with almost sniper-like precision. Bilbo emits a punched-out cry, his mouth falling slack as his body nearly jumps off the bed.

“There!” Bilbo growls, “Fucking right there, Thorin.”

Thorin thrusts his hand into Bilbo, curling his fingers to brush against his prostate with every push, and at the same time he strokes up Bilbo’s dick, twisting his wrist just as it reaches the head. Bilbo could _cry_ with how good it feels to have Thorin all around him and inside him like this, and it’s too much and not enough all at the same time, because Thorin is both gentle and rough with him, and then he’s bucking and thrusting and jerking, desperate to come. All the while, Thorin’s fingers continue to open him, and the effort is making Thorin grunt needily.

“Feels so good, Bilbo,” he tells him, “Fuck, I could make you come like this, just with my hands.”

“No, please,” Bilbo urges, “Not like that, want your cock, please please please.”

Thorin rewards him by removing one finger but teasing at his spot relentlessly with the two that remain. Bilbo’s groan is drawn out and rough and muffled into the pillow, and his entire body shivers with the need to come and the struggle to hold it back.

“Gonna fuck you, baby,” Thorin whispers, biting at Bilbo’s earlobe again.

“ _Please_ ,” is all Bilbo can say.

“Condom, quick,” Thorin urges, withdrawing all contact rather abruptly from Bilbo.

As Bilbo gropes around the open drawer again for a loose packet, Thorin rids himself of all his clothes, and they fall heavily to the floor. When Bilbo reaches the packet backwards, Thorin pulls him up by the waist, and Bilbo twists just enough to reach him and kiss him desperately, grinding back against his now naked erection and revelling in the hungry growl it elicits from his lover. Bilbo watches as Thorin rips the packet open with his teeth, and then he reaches back to kiss along the back of Thorin’s ear as Thorin rolls the condom onto himself.

“Want you to ride me,” Thorin whispers against Bilbo’s mouth, “Love watching you move on top of me.”

Bilbo can only nod, and Thorin twists downward and pulls Bilbo on top of him, his covered cock nestled between the two of them. Bilbo squeezes a generous amount of lube onto his palm, hissing at the heat on his palm. As he reaches back to slick Thorin’s prick with the lube, Thorin pulls Bilbo’s undone tie out from underneath the collar of Bilbo’s open shirt. Bilbo gives Thorin a bit of a squeeze, and Thorin bucks, tsk-ing at Bilbo.

“Hands,” Thorin says, and Bilbo stops, confused.

“What?” Bilbo asks breathlessly.

“Hands,” Thorin says again, holding up Bilbo’s tie to indicate his intentions.

“Oh, come _on_ , Thorin,” Bilbo whines, “I want to be able to touch you.”

“Next time,” Thorin laughs with a small wink, “For now, _hands_.”

Bilbo pouts at him as he offers his wrists to Thorin, who binds them tight with Bilbo’s necktie.

“Comfy?” Thorin asks, and Bilbo tests his handiwork by trying to separate his wrists.

“Not at all,” Bilbo jokes, and Thorin laughs, drawing him down for a sweet kiss.

“Love you,” Thorin promises.

“Fuck me,” Bilbo demands.

“Jerk,” Thorin snorts, but he clasps Bilbo’s hip in one hand and his cock in the other, and ever so slowly, they guide themselves to each other, Thorin gritting his teeth as the head pushes past Bilbo’s pucker and into his slicked, hot entrance.

“Shit,” one of them breathes, they’re no longer sure which. Bilbo pushes down even more, inching down at a comfortable pace, and he can tell by the look on Thorin’s face that he’s trying so hard not to just shove all the way up into Bilbo already. Bilbo bites his lip as Thorin gets in deeper, and he lets out a shaky breath when he’s seated fully in him.

“Fuck yes,” Bilbo sighs as he plants his knees on either side of Thorin, his bound hands on Thorin’s chest.

“Slow?” Thorin asks him.

“Yeah,” Bilbo heaves, circling his hips a little to give Thorin a pace to match for the time being. Thorin moans behind pursed lips as he grips Bilbo’s waist and starts to move, pulling only halfway out before pushing back in, and for now this is enough. Thorin pulls Bilbo down to him to kiss him, and Bilbo lets him, losing himself in it, and wishing he could do the same, just pull Thorin to him and never let go.

But their languid pace doesn’t last very long, and how can it? Bilbo is moving to meet Thorin’s every thrust. His muscles clench around Thorin, who cannot help but push into it with more and more force. Bilbo’s blunt nails scrabble for purchase on Thorin’s skin as he Thorin reaches between his legs with one hand and strokes him every now and then in time with the fucking of his hips into Bilbo. Before long, Bilbo is arched up, pushing at Thorin’s hips and begging him to go harder and to go faster.

“Tell me how it feels, Thorin,” Bilbo urges, throat dry and voice rough.

“So fucking good, babe,” Thorin replies, grunting as he bucks up into Bilbo, pulling almost all the way out only to slam home and rub hard against Bilbo’s spot, making him cry out, “Fucking tight...And you sound so good...God, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Don’t say that,” Bilbo whimpers, “Don’t you ever fucking say that...Oh _God_ , faster...”

Thorin complies, drawing his knees up for more leverage. Bilbo can’t hold back anymore, can barely form anything coherent, and when he looks down and sees Thorin watching him, he almost loses it, almost comes without warning. The look in Thorin’s face is possessive but affectionate, hungry but loving. He whispers Bilbo’s name like it’s a prayer, and when Thorin adjusts to re-angle his thrusts to hit Bilbo’s prostate almost dead-on, Bilbo can only slam his tied wrists down onto Thorin, because there are no more words in any language to describe how good it feels.

“Touch me,” Bilbo manages to say, and Thorin does, holding Bilbo up with one hand while the other works furiously over Bilbo’s cock, thumb merciless at the slit and fist tight around the head.

“So fucking beautiful, Bil,” Bilbo hears Thorin moan, and Bilbo’s body bows as one particularly rough buck from Thorin’s hips couples with a tight twist of the head of his erection. Bilbo doesn’t come yet, but _God_ , was that close.

“Thorin, please,” Bilbo cries out, “Make me come, please...Fuck, want it so bad...”

“Me first,” Thorin tells him, “And then you can come in my mouth.”

“Fuck!”

Thorin seems to take that as a yes, because he holds Bilbo still above him at an angle, and pistons up into him. Bilbo positively yells, eyes screwed shut and jaw slack. His fingers dig into his palms as the sensations become too much, and if it weren’t for Thorin holding him up, he’d have fallen onto him by now. He lets out a string of curses, urging _faster Thorin faster_ and panting _God yes yes yes yes right there fuck fuck fuck_ , until Thorin actually has the audacity to slow back down, panting with the effort of keeping up the rhythm.

“Goddammit!” Bilbo growls, “I was getting close!”

“I know,” Thorin laughs, short of breath, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you there, I promise...But fuck, I just wanna...God, you just... _Fuck_.”

And he picks the quick, rough pace back up again, still holding Bilbo so he can’t move. The groan that Bilbo lets out is shaky because of Thorin’s thrusting, and he’s sure his eyes are aimed somewhere at the back of his brain now, they’ve rolled so far back with how good it feels. There’s nothing coming out of his mouth now except _Thorin Thorin Thorin_ , and Thorin cries out in response, pushing as hard into Bilbo as he can, head thrown back against the pillows and exposing the column of his neck to Bilbo. Bilbo leans down and licks from his collarbone upward, kissing at his chin and lips.

“ _God, Bilbo!_ ”

Two, three, four hard thrusts, and then Thorin buries himself to the hilt inside Bilbo and stills, shaking as his orgasm finally hits. Bilbo can feel him pulsing and throbbing inside him, can hear him growling and groaning and whimpering behind gritted teeth. Thorin’s fingers dig into Bilbo’s sides, gripping him almost vice-like as he comes. Thorin’s legs give way at last just as the last of the waves of his release hits, and Bilbo collapses onto him, cock throbbing and aching and red and needing that too, pressed between their sweaty bodies and twitching as if begging.

When Thorin’s climax is finally over, Bilbo moves off of him gingerly, even as Thorin continues to tremble beneath him. He feels Thorin give a few feeble jerks into the air, and Bilbo laughs a little before reaching to kiss Thorin affectionately.

“Your turn,” Thorin breathes, slightly weak fingers urging Bilbo upward along his body.

Bilbo’s legs have to stretch a little as he sets them on either side of Thorin’s shoulders, but as Bilbo sets his bound wrists on the headboard, Thorin pulls his body close until he can close his mouth around Bilbo’s cock to suck sharply.

“Fuck!” Bilbo grinds out, and at Thorin’s silent urging, he pumps his hips, feeding his erection into Thorin’s hot, wet mouth. Thorin’s tongue is devilish, teasing along the sensitive vein and running around the slit, until heat builds in Bilbo’s belly, ready to rush out in a fury.

“God yes, Thorin,” Bilbo moans, “Close, so close...”

Somehow, Thorin gathers enough wits about him to reach up and push one long finger into Bilbo, all the way in. Without warning, he curls his finger to the first joint and twists his wrist, a well-aimed attack at Bilbo’s over-sensitive prostate.

With a loud cry of Thorin’s name, Bilbo finally comes hard, body jerking as he Thorin’s lips suckle hard on the head of his cock and milk his release out of him. He can just barely hear Thorin swallowing down his orgasm, because Thorin pumps his finger at Bilbo’s weakness, drawing his finish out even more, until Bilbo is too sensitive to keep going. With one last strong spasm, Bilbo limply falls off of Thorin and onto the bed, his entire body heaving as he struggles for air. Thorin pulls off the spent condom and throws it off to the side with nary a care for now for where it might go.

They remain quiet for a while, staring up at the ceiling as they try to pull themselves back together.

“Bil...” Thorin tries, but Bilbo just shakes his head.

“Can’t...” he pants, “Not yet...”

“...Bilbo,” Thorin whispers, hand groping blindly beside him.

“Not yet,” Bilbo says again, but he moves (with some effort) into Thorin’s embrace, lets one arm wrap around his shoulder to hold him there.

“Bilbo,” Thorin whimpers, and it sounds almost pitiful now, so Bilbo reaches up and kisses him gently. Thorin responds just as sweetly, and it helps them both calm down.

“Sleep,” Bilbo tells him, planting a small kiss onto his nose, “I’m right here.”

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The mattress dipping by his feet wakes Bilbo slowly. He groans, rubbing at his eyes to clear his vision. “Thorin?” he calls groggily as his clearing sight brings Thorin's back into focus.

“Sorry,” Thorin replies quietly, sparing him a quick backward glance as he pulls his boots on, “I didn't want to wake you. I was hoping to be gone by the time you woke up.”

Bilbo sits up gingerly, still slightly sore from last night. “You usually are,” he says sadly, “Why do you do you that, by the way? I never get to say goodbye.”

“I don't want to hear you say goodbye to me,” Thorin answers honestly, “Never. It sounds so... _final_.”

Tears well up in Bilbo's eyes, and he cannot help but crawl along the bed until he can hold Thorin to him from behind, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders and burying his face in the crook of his neck. He feels Thorin heave a huge sigh, and then Thorin reaches up and holds Bilbo's wrists to him, turning his head to kiss Bilbo's curls.

“Last one?” Bilbo asks him.

“Last one,” Thorin promises.

Bilbo nods, taking a deep breath as he tries to will the tears away. “I'll walk you to the door,” he offers, (reluctantly) letting go of Thorin and reaching for the first shirt he can reach inside his closet.

The short walk from their bedroom to the back door is spent in silence, and feels like an eternity and a half to Bilbo. He almost doesn't want them to reach the door, but convinces himself that they need this, they need to reach that door, or else it will never be over. _We'll be stuck here_ , Thorin had said last night, and he had been right, of course. This is no life for them. It never has been. They deserve much better. And Thorin can get them that. But first...

“You know where to go?” Bilbo asks, pulling at Thorin's coat to straighten it as Thorin nods and adjusts the collar of his turtleneck, “I'll give him a ring five minutes after you've left to let him know you're on your way.”

“Make it ten,” Thorin advises, “Just to be sure.”

Bilbo nods, picking at various things on Thorin to distract himself from the fact that he's not breathing easy, but he knows he can't keep it up for very long.

“Will you be all right?” Thorin asks him softly.

Bilbo nearly shakes his head, but he wills himself instead to look up and smile. “I'll try to be,” he promises.

Thorin gives him a small smile, but he can't hold it either. “See, this is why I'm gone before you can wake up,” he sighs, “This look on your face right now. You make it so hard, you know? You make it so hard to leave.”

“Would it be so bad if you didn't?” Bilbo offers, but he already knows the answer to that.

The breath that Thorin takes is deep, as if to re-compose himself. “I won't be gone long,” he tells Bilbo.

“I'll see you soon,” Bilbo replies, and he can't keep calm anymore, he just can't. He pulls Thorin to him and kisses him deeply, committing this to memory, wanting this to last because he knows what's at the end of it. Thorin's arms close around him, holding him tight and pulling him close. Bilbo has to stand on the tips of his toes to continue to reach him, but Bilbo doesn't care. It's worth it, it's always worth it.

Thorin pulls away and ends the kiss, but Bilbo keeps him there, touching his forehead to Thorin's.

“You come home to me,” he demands, “You fucking come home to me. Whole, in one piece. You understand? No matter what happens, you come home to me.”

Thorin kisses the tip of his nose. “When have I not?” he asks in reply.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Bilbo spends most of that first day of Thorin's absence worrying. The last he'd heard of him was when Dwalin had texted him from an anonymous number that Thorin had been by already, picked up everything he needed, and had gone within 10 minutes. Bilbo should've deleted the text as soon as he'd read it, in case his phone got stolen, but for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to. Not this time.

Nothing about this one feels the same as any of the other jobs before, after all.

That night, he sits alone at the dining table, eating left-over pasta and red wine. He can't even bring himself to turn the TV on.

He had set the other side of the table, as if he's expecting Thorin home by dinner time.

That first night, Bilbo doesn't sleep.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Bilbo bolts upright in bed, where he had apparently fallen asleep with all his work clothes still on. The wine bottle is all but drained, stood on the floor just near where his hand had been hanging off the edge of the bed. Wincing and cringing, he turns to look at the clock.

5:00am.

Day two without Thorin.

Bilbo turns, flopping onto his back and staring uselessly up at the ceiling. The emptiness of the house is pressing down on him, and the silence is ringing in his ears.

No, he's not going to work today. He doesn't really actually feel like doing anything today.

...A shower, at least.

Bilbo is so out of it that he goes into Thorin's closet for clothes instead of his own. He only comes to when he pulls the shirt up over his head, and the scent of Thorin washes over him and nearly bowls him over.

Bilbo remembers that scent. Thorin had laughed and called it “cheap perfume” when Bilbo had first noticed it, but Bilbo can never mistake Thorin's aftershave for anything else, especially not when it mingles with a smell that's uniquely _Thorin_.

Bilbo doesn't take the shirt off all day. He curls up on the couch, clutching his phone, although he knows he's not going to be hearing from anyone outside of work.

That second night, Bilbo forgets to even eat. He's too busy looking out the window, watching the empty streets outside their home.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

Day three is gray and cold and rainy, and Bilbo wakes up at the dining table, having fallen asleep on it in the middle of the night.

Saturday. Bilbo's always hated Saturdays.

He does the groceries, and it isn't until the bill comes out that he realizes he's bought quite a bit more food than he usually does when he knows he'll be alone at home for a while.

He almost doesn't want to get out of the car. As a matter of fact, once he's parked it in the garage, he just stays in there for a while, contemplates living in there until Thorin comes back.

_Until._

When he does finally come back to himself, Bilbo brings the groceries back inside and tries to act normal. He tidies up as best as he can, busying himself with as much cleaning and putting away and organizing as possible.

He finishes mid-afternoon, and realizes it was a worse idea than he had initially thought it would be.

The house seems bigger. Colder. Emptier.

There's only one – ONE – picture of Thorin here, because it's the only one that Bilbo convinced him to display. It's sitting in a simple, nondescript frame beside Bilbo's side of the bed. Thorin has large glasses on, covering his eyes and making him near unrecognizable. Underneath the giant rims, he's pushed his lips out in a ridiculous, filthy pout. Thorin hadn't thought Bilbo would actually take the picture when he had made the face, but Bilbo had clicked anyway, cracking up the whole time.

It's the only picture of Thorin Bilbo has.

That third night, Bilbo curls into the sofa, the picture clutched to him, the only sound in the house the white noise of the nightly news.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

A soft touch of lips to his forehead is what wakes Bilbo on day four, and as soon as his vision clears, he takes in the sight of Thorin, a little bruised and with a cut across his left cheek, smiling at him, a hand stroking his hair gently.

“Hey,” Thorin greets quietly, as if Bilbo is still asleep.

Bilbo feels his chest tighten and his eyes sting with hot tears. “You _fucker!_ ” he exclaims, sitting up and launching himself at Thorin, his arms around Thorin and Thorin's around him. He cries into Thorin's shoulder, and he can feel Thorin hold him tighter, and Bilbo is thankful for that because he feels like he's falling apart.

“It's okay,” Thorin whispers into his hair, stroking his back to calm him, “It's all right. It's over. It's over.”

That first night, Thorin keeps Bilbo awake, making love to him three times before he can even begin to tell Bilbo what had happened, why it took him three days to come home, how much he had missed Bilbo. Bilbo keeps Thorin awake after that, planning their next move, booking a flight over the internet, typing up a two-week notice for his resignation and an e-mail to his uncle telling them they're on their way before the end of the month.

 

 

 

_**~ END. ~** _

(for now)

**Author's Note:**

> [Sequel is up.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1062083)
> 
> I'm planning two more versions of this, one that's fem!Bilbo and one that's fem!Bagginshield (both of them). Yay or nay?


End file.
